St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1887-10-11
NITfTi

IN weekly paper pub
lished in a clipper little camp in Ne
vada, two days by mud wagon from the
nearest railroad or telegraph station, /
would gladly have exchanged places
even with a New York City editor
explaining to his chief how it was
the hated rival got in that terrific
scoop, writes Edward w. Townsend IN
the New York World. =
1t was more than exciting. There
had been a grand ball at Blue Peaks, a
neighboring camp, and the grandeur of
the ball had been enhanced by the SEN
SatiOnal elopment of the most noted
gambler of the camp, gentleman well
known in Nevada as short Sam, with a
lady called Dusty Bob. At the time of
the ball she was not known as such, at
least in Blue Peaks. She came
there few days before with a staid
middle-aged man, a Mr.. Blocker. who
proposed building a quartz mill, he
said, and both he and his daughter-She
was introduced as Such-were shown
marked social attention. Papa was a
little doubtful about allowing his daugh-
ter to attend the ball. Not that the Occa-
sion-it was the opening of the Ell Do
RADIO saloon, and the faro tables were
removed to make room for the dancing
was anything less than the most criti-
cal could demand, but immigration
into the camp had as yet brought fe-
males of an unattended class only.
The difficulty was solved by Short
Sam in his usual generous manner. He
proposed to be Miss Bleeker's sole es-
cort during the evening of the ball,
Blocker plays pardnerS with me agin
the game no gentleman in the camp
will allow he can bring any base bullion
lady near enough to hurt"
There was no doubt about this. Sam
was not only the richest gambler in
Blue Peaks, but he also enjoyed the
unique reputation of being the only faro
dealer in Nevada who never had look
out at his table. He was too quick and
sure with his pistol to require look
outs assistance inrepreSSing the acquiS-
tive proclivities of check gOrillaS,
fact to which the new graveyard at
Blue Peaks bore eloquent, if silent,
testimony.
So the grand ball at the Ell Dorado
was graced by the modest Miss BECKER,
and the candles, in their dirk-like
miners candlesticks harpooned in the
joists, shone not SO brightly as her inno-
cent blue eyes. Sam, in a boiled shirt
uncovered by vest or coat, was tenderly
attentive. 1t was plain to every miner
Sam was hard hit. Papa Blocker how
cred about the bar, atop of which sat
the fiddler, and made frequent demands
OH his daughters gallant escort to ''iOin
him once more" 1t was near midnight
when Sam. long since aflame with the
sweet poison of Cupid's dart and the Ell
DOradO'S tWO-bit O. =. S., disappeared
with Miss Blocker. -
That they had not gone to sup
per, served in the miners board
ing house, adjoining the Ell Do
RADIO, was first made known by
miner who arrived at the ball fash
ionably late. He had quit work when
the IL O'Clock shift went on, and on his
way to the ball had seen 'Sam and the
new gal driving down the grade to Mug
getville in the stage cOmpany'S sleigh;
Sam driving to beat -. l reckon
they're SlOped to get hitched."
1t was the following day / heard the
sequel to the story while pursuing the
reportOrial side of my duties for the
Nuggetville ASSayer.
Sam and Miss Blocker had arrived in
camp an hour before daylight, and out
of consideration for the age of the JUS
tice of the peace, had not then called on
his services to make their lives one, but
had gone to the hotel together to await
a more seemly wedding hour. That had
been after a late breakfast, and it was
after their return to Blue Peaks that I
gathered these facts and prepared them
in style calculated to create a sensa-
ton among the readers of the AsSayer.
1t did.
My best efforts since have fallen fiat
in comparison. Subscribers came to the
office, and stopped me ON the street,and
with a Singleness of mind that became
annoying asked me if l had ever met
Short Sam.
never had: in fact. knew nothing
about him until he became the central
figure of my pet sensation.
The smiles with which my assertion
of ignorance regarding Short Sam were
greeted had, thought, much of pity in
them.
One day the patriarch of the camp,
man who had resided there continu-
OuSly for more then three years, came
into my office and sole mnly asked if
remembered the clump of willows by
the spring at the foot of Gold canon
/ did; it was favOrite walk of mine.
"Yes? Wall, that's whar we buried
the last editor"
His remark was certainly irrelevant,
still it gave me an unpleasant shock.
l thought to recover myself by
Righteousness, and asked with smile,
painful smile:
Indeed! where did you bury the one
before him?'
The Patriarch did not smile: l hoped
he would. He replied:
Lets see. The one afore hin-yes,
I think IL tho ono iac fOro hin,
wasn't killed. He was only shot through
the knee"
/ gave up trying to look amused. I
was interested, but not amused.
The Patriarch continued: Least
ways, we didn't bury the hull of him.
We planted the part of the leg the doc
tor cut off. You see, the boys likes a
funeral onct in a while. There being
no parsOn here, funeral is the only
times the boys has chance to feel re-
ligious like. We made that editor what
got shot in the knee preach sermon
over the funeral of his leg. Then he left
town."
The Patriarch turned to leave, but
turned and said solemnly:
EFF you has any folks who might want
dress with me. The editor afOre the one
what got his knee hurt did it, Sans in
Carson on his wedding tour, but he'll he
back in a few days."
l had not fully recovered from the
effects of this interview when had an
other caller. He was a young, good
looking chap. and smiled pleasantly as
he asked:
care You the new editor?'
j admitted the fact.
II am proprietor of the Ell Dorado, at
Blue Peaks, and friend of Short
SAM"
nervously slipped my hand towards
an open drawer in my desk, but before
l had reached what sought the propri-
etOr of the Ell Dorado was looking at Inc
over the muZZle of revolver which he
was carelessly resting OH the edge Of